


The Millennium Horcruxes

by PuzlDragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: BAMF Mutou Yuugi, BAMF Yami Yuugi | Atem, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone is Part of the Pack, F/F, F/M, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Professors, Horcrux Hunting, Horcruxes, Kaiba Seto Has Issues, Kaiba Seto Needs a Hug, M/M, Mages, Multi, Mutou Yuugi Needs a Hug, Polyamory, Post-Yu-Gi-Oh! The Dark Side of Dimensions, Sennen Items | Millennium Items, Wizards, Yami Yuugi | Atem Comes Back, Yami Yuugi | Atem Has His Own Body, Yu-Gi-Oh Season Zero
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28973664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzlDragon/pseuds/PuzlDragon
Summary: The summer is terrible. All Harry - and the Order - want to know is what is Voldemort up to. Then they get slammed with the revival of the first horcrux maker in a botched attempt to gain infinite demonic power. It's a race to stop Voldemort's plans from succeeding as they all challenge everything they know about magic, and the muggle world.Because this angry once-boy-king is demanding to bring 'the nerd herd' and his 'Aibou' along for the ride.(Rating is for canon-typical violence, and swearing.)
Relationships: Atem/Kaiba Seto/Mutou Yuugi, Atem/Mutou Yuugi, Atem/Otogi Ryuuji | Duke Devlin, Bakura Ryou/Mutou Yuugi, Honda Hiroto | Tristan Taylor/Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Mazaki Anzu | Tea Gardner/Mutou Yuugi, Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Mutou Yuugi, Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Yami Yuugi, Kaiba Seto/Yami Yuugi | Atem, Mutou Yuugi/Otogi Ryuuji | Duke Devlin, Mutou Yuugi/Yami Yuugi, Mutou Yuugi/Yami Yuugi | Atem
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	1. A Little Soft In The Head (They Did Remove My Brains)

It was just a normal day in Little Whinging. Harry tries to listen to the news, his relatives yell, and throw things at him. Aunt Petunia gets tired of him once she catches him reading the paper of of the rubbish bin. So he heads down to the park, glad to be in the sunshine, yet troubled by his lack of news on what's happening in the world. Just a little peak might reveal the schemes of Voldemort, and his minions.

But that's where it all goes wrong.

Five wizards apparate around him. They toss a cape over his head, and before he can get it off, he feels the twisting pop of disapparstion in his belly.

He ends up on the cold ground, his wand shooting out of his hand with a quick expelliarmus. He bounces up with desperate adrenaline in his veins, ready to run, to grab, to punch.

He ends up with ropes bound around him.

Next thing he knows, he's dragged around a big giant stone table thing, and shoved onto his knees. It is cold, clamy. His knees get damp from the soft, muddy earth beneath him. He looks next to him, and sees Mundungus. Which explains a lot. There's tons of death eaters. Dozens, at least. They gather around the stone table, shoving a few other people down on the ground besides Harry. He turns. He watches as the hoods are ripped from the captives's heads. It's Hermione, Neville, Ron, Luna, and the twins. One of the twins opens their mouth.

"Blimey. It was just a pop to the apocatheory for supplies. What the hell is all this?" A deatheater shoves the back of his head. In the light of the green fires, their red hair is an unnatural sheen bobbing in the light.

"Be silent. It is the ascent of Lord Voldemort!" The guy's voice sounds like the rapture is coming, and he's getting off on it. Delightful.

The next very delightful thing that happens is that a big giant shield pops up. Harry swivels his head around. Oh great. It covers pretty far, surrounding them.

"Oh no..." Nevile says. His face is as pale as the gray ghost.

"It's okay Neville, we'll get out of this." Hermoine's voice sounds like steel. The death eaters better hope she doesn't get her wand back. She can cast some bad hexes.

There's more pops of apparation.

"Boys! Ginny! Hermione! Just hang on!" It's Molly's voice. And gasps of horror from some others. Most of the Order of the Phoenix is surrounding the terrible party. Unfortunately, they are all outside the giant shield. Dumbledore, and a few others start chanting at the shield. But there's no telling how long it will be until they break it. And a gangling figure is dragging its way across the field, through the fog, and firelight. It starts cackling. A hissing sound seething with twisted victory.

"Watch, all of you! For today I gain unfathomed power! Power that shall let me overtake this world. To turn it into a world fitting those pure!" He gestures to a cackling death eater. "Being them forth!"

She doesnt even bother to hide her hair below her hood. Her body is wracked unnaturally with her laughter. She brings forth a large, black wooden box.

"Here it is, my Lord." Oh great, whatever he's about to do it can't be good. Out of the corner if Harry's eye, he can see Hermoine untying her wrist ropes manually. The twins are moving their lips silently. If anyone would keep wandless magic abilities a secret, it would be them. It would give their sneakiness a boost. Harry can hope that's true, at least.

The order still hasn't been able to breach the shield. Flitwick's voice is harsh with frustration as he belts out another spell. Harry hears Dumbledore spit out a curse he's never heard before. Great. No help on that front. Harry figures out the best thing about their situation is that all their wands are together, and close by in the grass. Whatever dunder-headed death eaters have them captive, they figured that their captives serve no threat once disarmed.

Which wasn't really true. It was just death-eaters with wands served more threats considering they like forbidden curses. But once they are distracted, it would take maybe a shove, and a well-placed fall, and they would have their wands, again. But it looks like they better act fast. Because Lestrange (who else could it be?) was laying some weird golden items upon the stone tablet. Then they drizzled...

"That's blood isn't it!" Well, Neville's probably right.

Weird gold jewelry, blood, human bones (wonderful), a unicorn horn, and some various potions drizzled here, and there. Then they just throw a live hawk on the table. It's shrieks pierce through the thick air. And dissect it. Great. Just great. This day is perfect.

Kidnapping, and death eaters, and Voldy toes, and corpse dessecration, and now some poor bird torture.

"I shall render the veil between the mortal, and the immortal! The mundane, and the supernatural! Gather to me! For you shall see the god I shall become!" And Voldemort has found yet another height for his ego to inflate to. He thinks he sees Hermione roll her eyes. Not even sheer terror can prevent Hermoine from judging you.

This is the cue for most of the gathered death eaters to move into a circle, and start chanting. The Order picks up the pace of their spells. They are frantically spitting out spells. The lights just bounce ineffectively off the barrier. Little rainbow comets of broken hopes.

There is a pressure in the air that grows, and grows. It forces down upon their shoulders, their knees digging further into the soft mud. The death eaters go down, one by one. Rocks vibrate, scattering under this strange, foreign force. Several of them just splinter, cracks spreading their way into the hidden underbelly of the stones. The wind rustles the patches of overgrown grass. Like rippling waves. The wind whips through the area, making it harder to keep his eyes open.

Suddenly, the items start glowing a sickening golden light. Around the glow is an abyss of black void that sucks up all other light. It pulses like a twisted heartbeat. It spreads, the golden glow growing with it. Then twisting vines of shadows sprout from the darkness of the area. They slither onto the tablet, and start writhing, joining, seperating.

Slowly, oh so slowly - and to everyone's horror - it forms into a person. Its a bizarre shadow shape, small with eyes that open to glowing slits. Harry is prepared for some other monstrosity. Some monster, some demon that mimics Voldemort's desecration of humanity. And then the shadows pull back.

To reveal a boy.

At least he looks like one. Skin the color of cassiterite, and shiny gold jewelry adorning him. His red, black, and golden hair looks like a wild bush, curls dissected by sharp corners like lightening strikes. A long cape the color of the dusk sky pours out behind him on the dissected tablet where a pile of horrors once seated. On his head is a shiny golden diadem, shaped like amber wings. Upon his chest is one of the golden items - an upside down pyramid necklace. His eyes open, and they glow like the sun. Then his eyes fade. His head jerks around. He looks as dazed as the twins, and Seamus after they sneaked some firewhiskey. He jerks to an uneasy stand, wobbling like a baby horse. His feet sink into the soft mud as he steps, making him wobble more. He speaks. It's complete gibberish.

He tries something else. Then yet again, his booming baritone demanding some answers, no doubt. It's all misunderstandable. A death eater steps forward, raising his wand. The boy does not like this, and points the wand back down. So he knows what a wand is.

"I can cast a translation spell, Lord Voldemort." The boy clears his throat.

"That will not be neccessary." They all stare at the boy, decorated in foreign skirts, and jewelry. Understanding English...somehow. Even Dumbledore stops chanting counter spells for a moment.

"Who are you, where am I, and what terrible magic did you act with to bring me, the eternal Horus, from the field of dreams?" His voice raises in volume to a state of absolute pissed. Voldemort hiss-cackles. He really can't read the...whereever the fuck they are.

"I am Lord Voldemort, and I have raised you, spirit of the Millennium Puzzle so that we may create a world for the righteous people. I seek the great power of the Millennium Items to do this task. I seek a sharing of your power, since I have done the great task of raising you to life!"

"Well, for one, I was in the middle of a senet contest you probably just cost me. Also, having a body after so long sucks. Three, I'm not a fool I know you used some terrible magic to create this body, which at best used defiled corpses, and at worse required living sacrificies. Four, I don't really make deals with megalomaniac bastards."

There is absloute silence. Complete, utter silence. A wobbly boy shivering in his thin skirt just called Voldemort a **_megalomaniac_ _bastard_ _._**

"Excuse me?!?!" Bellatrix cries out. She shoots a burgandy colored curse towards the boy. He dodges, but a death eater on the other side of the circle goes down, screaming. Everyone - including the other death eaters - ignore him. Must have not been very popular.

"How dare you! I have given you life! You belong to me, and shall grant me the great power of the items, and I shall consider overlooking your transgression." Voldemort doesn't make deals. He will probably not overlook it.

"Oh, looks like you can't hear. I DO NOT DEAL WITH MEGALOMANIAC CRAZY BASTARDS! AND GET A HEARING TEST!" He huffs with large, smug grin. He looks half deranged with pride.

"I am the Great King of The Two Lands, Eternal Horus, Unifier of the Two Kingdoms, Ruler of Justice Like Ra, Son of Re, Sealer of the Demon God, Herald of Ra-Horakhty, Defeater of The Demon God! If you think I shall bring forth the great beast I spent millennia locked away in splinters without my ren for, then you are greatly disturbed!" The boy starts chuckling as if he has heard a great joke. But no one else can say a thing.

Voldemort grabbed the wrong person. Voldemort grabbed a tiny little boy-king who fought some demon he wants. A crazy little teen who doesn't know what a brush is. The boy starts sputtering his laughter to a stop.

"Now, if you could send me back to my senet game-" He doesn't get farther. Voldemort sends a Cruciatus straight at him. They all expect him to fall to the ground. He doesn't.

Oh, he does not even look in pain. The only ding in his posture is his gritted teeth. He then chuckles out a sputtered laugh.

"Crucio!" Barely a wince. Then another, from Bellatrix. Like a domino chain, the death eaters all start cursing him. He stays standing. Blood flies from him, eventually a jelly-legs hex forces him to his knees. But he keeps that challenging smirk the whole time, staring into Voldemort's eyes. Eventually the cursing stops as he falls to the ground, his limbs whriting. Bellatrix slowly approaches, turning the boy onto his burned back.

The boy is still smirking.

"That the best you can do?" Bellatrix screeches at the boy.

"Grab the Order of the Phoenix! Grab all of them! We shall show all who defy me the true path of power! And I will wring it out of this foolish boy if I must!" It turns to chaos. The Order might have all turned out for a rescue attempt, but whatever shield the death eaters are using protects them from enemy fire.

It also reflects spells back.

It takes precious few seconds before much of the Order is bound on the ground; some shaking, gasping with pain. The rest try to stand their ground, loyal to the teens stuck inside the barrier, and trying to get their fallen peers to safety. It doesn't work. Almost all of them get nabbed by the death eaters, a fragment of the Order escaping while the injured members chant for them to run. Soon enough, the death eaters are magically dragging the bound Order members, and the teens together, before throwing portkeys on them. They end up in dreary cells on cold stone floors. With huge losses to the resistence, right as Voldemort moves towards great demonic power. With only one cow-licked teen standing in his way. And somehow, it isn't Harry Potter.


	2. We'll Let Ourselves Out (Not Sorry We Crashed The Party)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm calling him Atemu. Funnily enough, that isn't just his name in the Japanese version. It's what the Egyptian hieroglyphs say! The subbed version changed his name, and left the hieroglyphs! 
> 
> Which is kind of strange since they edited out everything from Yuugi's mom to Kaiba holding some keys.
> 
> So... I'm going with Atemu for once. Don't know if I'll always do it, but yeah.
> 
> Edit: I left this thinking people would get it. But just in case: I KNOW the old guy in lotr is Gandalf. The joke is that Atemu doesn't cuz he is an old ghost. So that's why he calls Dumbledore 'that guy from lord of the rings, Merlin'.

It is not pleasant. Not anywhere close. He knew it wouldn't be. Spending time near a group of sadistic megalomaniacs who he pissed off would never be a good time.

But he needed to keep the puzzle.

By the gods, who knows how they even found it. After that catastrophe with Diva, and Zorc (and what the hell even were the Plana?), he thought he had rid the puzzle of existing in the living realm. But, of course, with magicians it was never that easy. He should have known. And when he's first resurrected he's weak. He can feel it. This fresh body only just now getting used to living. Stumbling over himself in the fresh, damp earth. Barely able to force rough words from his throat. So he does what he does best.

Bluff.

Because Atemu is in no condition to stop their plans to resurrect Zorc. Especially not without the god monster cards, or tablets. And no Diadhank or duel disk. Weak body, defenseless, and unable to protect those captives, he throws himself onto the serving platter.

He's very good at pissing people off.

It's not like they'll kill him. Rabid, maybe. But they don't seem totally stupid. If they kill him, they lose their information about Zorc. Or maybe they still think he is Zorc, and he just won't obey them. Hey, Atemu said they weren't totally stupid. They're only somewhat stupid. Bringing the puzzle back must have taken a couple of braincells. What they don't know is that Atemu spent millennia in battle with said demon god, getting wounds to his very soul. There is no torture they can put him through that he will crack under.

But it's not a fun time.

Either magicians of the modern times have spent lots of time unraveling ways to torture people, or there was a lot of magical branches left out of Atemu's education. Possibly, both. At first it's mostly just Atemu writhing on the cool marble as he spits at the magicians, and they light his nerves on fire with a spell. But eventually, they get creative.

After Atemu sees a vermilion Jackson Pollock painting of his own blood on the ceiling, he starts to think maybe they will kill him. He starts laughing again. To be back in the modern world, so close to so many people who care about him. And they won't even realize Atemu was here before he dies again.

But it turns out modern magic has a lot of healing spells, too.

So Atemu watches his blood drain off the walls in sickening waterfalls, and watches the fillets of his legs knit themselves back together. He feels acidic bile in his throat, actually. And he thought he's seen a lot of things. And then they start all over.

Eventually, the magicians wear out. No wonder, the way they are throwing around magic so blithely. So Atemu gets dragged along - or floated along, of course they're lazy - to cold, clammy dungeons. Or maybe it's just Atemu. He feels weak, shivering. Then the magician - yet another creepy fellow wearing outdated scratchy capes, and a gauche skull mask - magically opens a giant metal door. Because it's too much effort to open a door, _apparently._ And then with a gesture of a wand, Atemu gets tossed upon the rough floor. The impact shakes his recently re-healed bones, sharp stings of broken glass striking into his sore, burned flesh. Just a walk in the park, like Jounouchi says. Just amazing.

The door gets slammed behind him, the clang of a metal lock echoing in the small room. He waits, hearing footsteps walking away. He stretches out his senses, feeling the souls of the prisoners behind them. Feeling the twisted souls of the guards two hallways away. Of the captor walking away. Excellent. Aside from the fellow captives, and him, they are almost alone. One quick ambush should take the bastards out. Simple enough if he calls upon Mahaad, and Mana. He couldn't risk them being hit when he was so weak, but they could easily take out the guards.

So he turns to his fellow captives with a grin. A grin he knows is just a bit feral. He can't help it. He wants a bit of justice. A bit of revenge for their crimes.

"Is everyone here?" He thinks so, but it was hard to keep track while being tortured.

"Everyone is here," an older woman in dark green Scottish tartan. She manages to look dignified, even while wounded, and in this abysmal place.

"Good. Good. Then I have information on guards, and location. If you could briefly fill me in on these bastards?"

"Language, young man!" A very short man with pointed ears says. Atemu levels his gaze at him, with the most unimpressed look he can muster.

"They just filleted my back to heal it, and redo the process for hours. Bastards is a polite description," He states as deadpan as possible. He watches as all the magicians flinch. "If you think that's nauseating, you probably wouldn't appreciate the experience. We have to get out of here before the maniacs start on all of you, too."

"That...is a very accurate assessment, my boy. If very blunt. But why would you put yourself in the line of fire, young man?" Atemu huffs a laugh. It's weak, rough from shouting. It grates out of his throat like broken glass. He feels his smile. It's feral. Like the ones he gave when first released from the puzzle. Slick with his own blood. He feels like then. Ready to devour justice in the name of the innocent children held captive by torturers. He holds up the puzzle.

"They were too mad to figure out how to raise the demon. Or take the world's most powerful magical foci from me." There are puzzled, but accepting hums from the adults. Confusion from the youths.

"Foci?" A scrunched, freckled face redhead asks.

"Items to channel magic, Ron. Like wands," a bushy haired girl says.

"Oh."

"If that's the most powerful foci, wouldn't Voldemort be after it? How could he just _overlook it?"_ A youth with vibrant eyes, and hair almost as cow-licked as Atemu's says. All the magicians flinch, again, at the megalomaniac leader's name. If it could be called a name. Atemu flexes a brow. He stores that question for later.

"Because he is after the great demon. If he gained that power, the demon, and he could destroy the world. I watched it almost happen twice. A monster who came through the summoning gate, who led demons, and spirits. He can cause an eclipse with a raised hand. Collapse the earth with a gesture. Taller than any skyscraper. Can defeat the god monsters one by one. I sacrificed myself to seal him, and my soul was almost destroyed fighting him. Had my friends not aided me in becoming the herald of Ra-Horakhty, this world would be destroyed."

"Listen, demons don't exist. Whatever you fought-" The bushy haired girl starts. Atemu glares at her.

"So I just imagined cities destroyed. People dying in mass from the crash of his giant fist. From his fire. The resurrection where he almost broke free into the present, causing earthquakes, tornados, and tsunamis on February 11th?"

"Wait, that was you?" The dignified tartan woman gasps.

"That was the demon god," Atemu grimaces. "Loyal friends, and I barely defeated him. He also came back six months later in a fiasco; I only arrived towards the end of that. Red, and purple sky? People disappearing off the Earth. Them reappearing, confused, hours later? That was him. Imagine what would happen if he was given a day on this planet. A year. _Eternity."_

"Whatever this thing is - demon, or not - we need to stop Voldemort from raising him." The cowlick boy states with steely eyes. "But, uh - who are you?"

"Well - it is better if I don't say my name. It is part of what sealed the demon before. Rens have power, after all. Just call me what you wish, I suppose."

"Clearly, the influence of the rotfang conspiracy," a dazed looking blond girl says. Her frame is slight, slender like a crepe myrtle. Atemu cocks his head with a smile.

"So, what? We just call you No-Name?" 'Ron' says. His face looks like he's constipated.

"Why don't we call you what your friends called you?" A brunette youth asks. He's shivering, deer-eyed in his sweater vest. Atemu smiles.

"Strangely enough, I was called 'the Other Yuugi'."

"The other **_what?"_**

"One of my friends, Yuugi. He carried the puzzle I was sealed in. There was also a very similar appearance, and strategic mind. There's some more to the story, but it's long." Atemu can't help the smile that overtakes his face. He's hurting. Half his body is burned. It feels like he was physically torn apart, and patched together at his ragged pieces. He's in a cold, clammy, filthy dungeon with strangers.

And the mere thought of his dearest person warms his heart.

"Crumple-horned snornacks are attracted to warm thoughts," Luna says as if staring at a pretty sunset. Atemu cocks his head. His smile is serene for this dozy-headed girl. She reminds him of a boy with platinum hair, and a fascination for the strange, obscure, and occult. It makes him homesick for a home he never lived in.

"Alright, so we have Mr. No Name." One lanky red-headed twin says.

"What's your plan Mr. No Name?" The other twin completes. They lift their bound arms with smiles.

"Boys! We don't know who he really is! And his idea of a plan involved getting tortured!" A woman who shares their cheekbones shouts. Her ponytail of a tangle of red ringlets bobs loosely with her head. It is an eye catching crimson. Atemu grimaces, taken aback.

"I **_assure you,_** ma'am. I would never allow another person to be harmed under my protection. I will give anything under my abilities to protect another," Atemu's voice is a booming baritone, resolute in his degree. He cocks his head, furrowing his brow in contemplation. His voice flows smoothly without hesitation. "Besides, I died already millennia ago. The life of one from the realm of the living is worth more."

"You should hardly consider your life worth so little, my boy. Even if it's a strange one," an old man with the longest beard says. Atemu thinks he looks like that man from the lord of the rings. Merlin?

"I've been a ghost since five thousand years ago," Atemu deadpans. "And I think we've spent enough time talking. I'm summoning my friends." Atemu stumbles to a shaking stand. He locks his knees. He will **not** go down like this. He steps slowly into the center of the room, unable to hide the trembling of his legs, nor his limping. He slowly folds his hands over his chest in a large x. He might not have a Diadhank, or duel disk. He does not have any tablets, or cards. But he's stronger now. His body adapting to being reborn. And he has always been able to call two towards him, diadhank or no. Two people he has trusted since a babe.

And the dungeon lights up in a glimmering shine. Like condensed starlight, taking form in the middle of the room. It separates in half, coalesces into two shapes. The light condenses, burning brighter, and brighter. Everyone squints, turning their face from it. There is shouts, and mutters. But not from Atemu. He stands there, his face serene. He opens his eyes.

And there stands Mahaad, and Mana. The light has died down, now only a soft sheen surrounds them as they hover there. Their staffs are held at the ready. Mahaad opens his mouth to speak. Or, rather, to berate.

"You are injured. You disappeared, my king. And became injured, and did not call us. Your cousin was quite displeased." Mahaad's voice is ripe with disapproval. Mahaad, able to communicate reproach in the mildest of statements. Seething, stabbing reproach. Mana just looks ready to cry, her big hazel eyes filling with tears.

"I'm calling you now." Mahaad tsks.

"To inform you of the situation," by which Atemu means 'please for the love of the entire pantheon, do not start when I can barely stand', " We are in the third floor of a dungeon under some large manor. There is multiple magician guards who are led by a megalomaniac who wants to raise the demon-god. And they love to torture people. With very interesting, abominable magic. If you would mind getting the door, my friends?"

Before Mahaad can even do anything, Mana turns to the door, and blasts it with a fireball. Mahaad spins around. Atemu just sighs.

"Mana! Thank you for raising attention for every guard in this place," Mahaad shouts.

"Oops." Atem sighs again.

"Well I suppose they will be coming to us. If you could break us free from these bonds, and summon everyone's wands?" Mana's hand shoots straight up.

"What's a wand?"

"A small magical staff modern magicians use," Atem huffs out. He isn't sure if he is amused or not.

"Can those ghosts really do magic?!?" Nervous sweatervest shouts. Atemu turns to him. It's kind of impressive he shouted. He's only muttered the entire time.

"They aren't ghosts. They're summoned spirits. Very different concept."

"Hold on, but they're peoples ghosts!" Shortest redhead boy shouts. Which seems far more typical.

"It's more complicated then that. And I believe we don't have enough time," Mahaad replies. All the magicians stare at him. Mana waves her staff with several very unneeded flourishes. A large number of thin, wooden wands race down the hallway, to pause, circling in the dungeon's air.

"Oh, these are small!" Mana says. Mahaad cocks an eyebrow at the modern inventions, but refocuses on the doorway. The doorway which footsteps are running to.

"That's not how you do the summoning spell at all!" Bushy hair says. She sounds halfway between admiration, and annoyance. "How did you do that?" 

"I just focused!" Mana chirps. Bushy hair looks aghast at her answer. Mahaad, thankfully, keeps quiet on the miracle that Mana didn't explode something. Atemu figures it is best to follow Mahaad's lead on that front.

"Just grab your wand. Quickly. The enemy is coming." He doubts that Mahaad, and Mana can't finish them off. But he really doesn't want to explain dueling spirits, or Mana's explosive accidents. Or anything else. He kind of just wants a bed.

And, sure enough. Every hooded enemy that runs down the hallway finds themselves blasted back with a thousand explosions. Which is probably too much. 'Overkill', as Honda says. Atemu thinks the two of them are more worried then they let on. It's probably Atemu's blood-stained tunic. At least it works in their favor.

Soon enough, a dozen or more caped bodies lay twisted on the floor. When there's utter silence for several minutes, Atemu turns to the other prisoners.

"Well, I think we'll be fine escaping. There's an exit three floors up, and through a foyer."

"I've tried to see about apparating, but there are wards around this manor. We will have to travel past them before we escape," Merlin says.

"If the wards are too far out, then we just have to get to a safer place, and I can break through the wards," short pointy-eared guy says. Everyone else nods at his apparent abilities.

Ra knows what apparating is. Or what protection wards have to do with it. But he isn't in the shape to shadow anywhere. And he certainly can't summon a riding, or flying monster to get them out. So he'll just have to rely on these magicians for that part of the escape plan. Mahaad meets his eye. Atemu shrugs back. Which Mahaad scowls at. Too bad. Atemu has nothing. He is just going to have to go out on a limb with these British magicians. If nothing else, he can continue letting Mahaad, and Mana blow up evil dudes.

So Mahaad, and Mana lead the way down the hallways. Atemu is right behind them. He's more than ready to jump in front of a spell aimed at the escaping prisoners. He knows he can tolerate these magics.

They surprisingly make it up the dungeon staircases without problem. Perhaps all the guards all came to their noise. They step into the foyer, steps pattering an uneven beat across the tile. It's filled with the flourishes of the rich: status symbols. Gold leaf across all the pillars, the vases. Hand painted scenes across the ceilings. Atemu is familiar with buildings of status symbols.

He's just never been in one where the heads of creatures with bulbous eyes, and ears are mounted upon the wall.

"You!!" Oh, great. It's the crazy minion woman. She, in particular, could cast spells that hurt more than others. And was horribly inventive. Atemu spins around.

"Get her before she can hurt someone, Mahaad!"

"What can your little ghosts do, little boy?" She cackles, arm raising back with her wand.

Mahaad throws a thousand knives at her.

They end up flying her back, pinning her to the wall. Atemu isn't sure how they didn't hit her body, like they should have. Perhaps some sort of protective barrier. But her wand is out of her hand. He darts forward, stomping on it. He doesn't know how long it takes to make a modern one. But given how she howls, possibly a long time. Good. She doesn't need to be armed.

"Get out! Get everyone out!" Footsteps are echoing down the hallways as the crazy woman screams louder. Yet, Mana is already leading the escapees through the front door. Mahaad stands guard with Atem, in the middle of the foyer. Each minute that passes he feels a little stronger. He thinks he can manage enough. Just...this much.

He casts a mirror wall. Let these sycophants have fun with that.

Then he's out the door. He's not very fast. His limping, shaking legs aren't letting him run like the others. He sees them, gaining ground towards a cluster of trees. Hears Mahaad blast the front side of the manor into a collapse. Smart. And Atemu tries to increase his pace. Strains his muscles, huffing his rough breaths through his lungs. The outside is cold, making his soaked tunic cling to his skin.

And he falls.

He scrambles, trying to push himself up. Tries again. And again. And again. Mahaad, besides him urges him. He knows, if Mahaad could, he would yank him up. Forget Mahaad's love affair with decorum. He desires Atemu's safety more.

But Atemu can't get up. He yells wordlessly, an animalistic scream of anger. Footsteps come, crunching through the leaves. A hand jabs itself into his personal space. Arms wrap around his chest. He looks up.

It is the redheaded twins. And cowlicked. One twin starts shooting spells at his foot. Next thing he knows, his foot has a bandage around it. Atemu decides not to ask about what laws of physics they broke. Then cowlicked and the other twin haul him up under his armpits. It's fairly lopsided. The twins are bean poles, and cowlicked is his height. On his left side, where the twin is holding him, his leg isn't even touching the ground. And underneath Cowlick's baggy clothes, Atem can feel hisbskeletal frame. But somehow, they're fast. The three of them work together to drag Atemu towards the forest. Mahaad bobs along besides them, his face twisted into a rictor of concern. They break the tree line right as the sounds of shouts emerge.

"Looks like the death eaters just got out past that rubble," Bushy hair says.

"Well, if Professors McGonagall, and Dumbledore work on shielding us, I'll get to work on these wards. They seem to extend fairly far. It's probably best to stay put. Especially with the firepower our new friends have," pointy ears says. He seems mirthful as he nods towards Mahaad, and Mana. Atemu leans against the tree that the twins, and cowlick set him by. Blondie sits beside him. So does the red-haired mom. She starts tsking over his wounds, muttering about foolishness, and kids these days.

"I'm actually over five thousand years old." He says easily.

"You might have been a ghost for that long, but I know a reckless boy when I see one. Now shush, and sit still. I'm going to bandage you up," Atemu frowns at her. Her bossy, know-it-all attitude isn't going to gain favor in his eyes. But he knows when to pick his battles. And it's not when he needs medical care. Mahaad, no doubt having the same feeling, all but growls. Mana, no so elegant, just pouts. At least he knows their loyalty never fades.

Sometime after the three-dozen spell she cast, Atemu feels his tired, new body give in. Sleep takes him in a harsh battle, and it all turns black. His last thought is of his dear friends. And if they are safe if these 'death-eaters' could find the items.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's hard to write a scene with about two dozen people talking. Lots of them just did not get included. I assure you, they were all muttering to each other. I chose to have the most important bonds Atemu will grow be the focus. One blood-drained, half delirious teen can't hear every comment!

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo. Atem's pissed off, knows he's in a bad situation that he is unable to outsmart. He decides to take the brunt of their anger because if they curse him half to death, they won't focus on raising Zorc. He's buying time, he's just also stupidly brave. And an amazing bluffer. And enjoying insulting some jackasses. From everyone else's pov he is just an idiot. A brave gremlin boy. Note I'm more into the manga, even if I will include Noa, and Doma.


End file.
